Various Prompts
by KillerElephants
Summary: Re-posted, edited prompt responses taken from my tumblr. Regina Mills, Emma Swan, Kathryn Nolan, Ruby Lucas, Belle French, Swan Queen, Evil Princess, Red Beauty.
1. The Morning After

Swan Queen

* * *

The Morning After

It must have been barely dawn, Emma surmised, from the way her eyes opened with a relative easiness in the dimly lit room – unfamiliar, but not entirely unwelcoming. From the crook in her neck, she guessed she'd been out way longer than the 'few hours' she had originally planned for, and her body felt stiff and heavy as she tried to roll her limbs back into feeling.

Her foot brushed against something warm and, perhaps out of instinct, her leg further twitched towards the source of heat as she craned her neck up – ignoring its pained protest – to catch sight of the woman she knew to be lay by her side.

Regina had been watching her, clearly, for a small, almost teasing smile already held her lips, and Emma made a show of stretching to help diffuse the blush that was dead-set on climbing to her cheeks.

"How long was I asleep?" She asked after clearing her throat.

Regina gave a soft, one-shouldered shrug, as though the concept of time had completely left her, or perhaps just did not apply to the room they were currently harboured up in.

"They're not happy you're here," she said softly, her eyes crinkling with amusement. Emma rolled her own, catching sight of gleaming pink, and Regina continued, "A nurse came in ten minutes ago… just to check on things."

At that, the Emma's relaxed posture stiffened a little and she teetered closer to the other woman with a soft, yet urgent, "Everything okay?"

Together, they peered down at the wrapped bundle – impossibly small and perfect – that dozed against Regina's chest. Pink lips parted with the baby's breath and, unable to help herself, Emma brushed the tip of a finger over the infant's chubby cheek, making only the slightest contact with the new flesh.

When she sat back again, smile wobbling, she caught sight of the look of dainty wonder over Regina's face. Her hair was mussed, and only further messed up with the hand that Emma reached up to brush through her thick locks, and her make-up had been previously washed off her after the events of the night before, but that pregnancy-glow remained intact and her cheeks bloomed with rose-tinted warmth.

In the softest of breaths, as though even the slight increase in volume might startle their daughter from her slumber, Regina answered, "Everything's perfect."


	2. Cubs

Red Beauty

* * *

Cubs

"So, I thought I was the one who was supposed to get morning sickness?" Ruby asked with a wince as Belle continued to wretch over the toilet bowl, her stomach emptied in the basin below.

Sniffing delicately, Belle moved back onto her heels, eyes weary and watering. She accepted the toilet paper the other woman offered her with shaking fingers and wiped at her mouth. A soft sigh from behind sounded and her hair was released, dark curls once again hanging around her face, while steady hands scooped her up from beneath her arms.

The toilet was flushed and a tap twisted on, and Belle watched with a small, thankful smile as Ruby held a toothbrush out for her, already coated with paste.

"I'm sorry," Ruby told her, leaning against Belle's back, arms around her waist, as she watched her give her teeth a thorough brush.

"It's alright," Belle answered after rinsing her mouth, and turned in the arms around her so that she was facing Ruby, palms splayed across her back. "Just warn me the next time you make a steak smoothie."


	3. Excuses

Swan Queen

* * *

Excuses

Emma sighed. "It's all just excuses, Regina."

Regina's face fell, both apologetic and unrelenting, and she shook her head. "No," she insisted, "I'm not lying."

Emma couldn't quite manage a raised eyebrow and felt the injustice, deep within her chest, simmer to a boil. She turned her back, walking from the room, but Regina chased her quick steps.

She called her name and, on the second shout, Emma stopped if only to teeter precariously with her turn, green gaze forcing Regina to a halt.

"No… I'm not listening to this anymore." She shook her head and made for the stairs.

"Emma!" Regina stared up at her as she ascended the steps, expression verging on desperate. "Fine!" And Emma's footstep faltered on the stair. "I'm sorry!"

Slowly, Emma turned to her from above, eyes scornful and waiting.

"I'm sorry I laughed," Regina told her earnestly, "If Britney would have come to Storybrooke, I'd have been first in line for tickets."

Emma's hardened expression did not relent. "You mean it?" She asked, eyebrow raised.

"I swear," Regina nodded, "I taught Henry the dance to 'Hit Me Baby One More Time' when he was four…we had outfits and everything."

Finally, Emma's brow softened.

"You have pictures?"

Regina scoffed.

"Of course I have pictures."


	4. Goodbye

Evil Princess

* * *

Goodbye

"We're not schoolgirls," Regina sighed, falling back against the wall – damp and dimly lit – of an alley. As exasperated as she was, however, the sudden far-away look on Kathryn's face, no doubt picturing the schoolgirl scenario, caused her lips to wobble from scowl-to-smirk.

Kathryn soon sobered, the mental image of Storybrooke's mayor in a tiny pleated skirt and tie having been safely tucked away for later. Her smile was almost sombre.

"Then let's stop sneaking around," she responded, but the words lacked conviction. She had raised the argument more than once before and yet Regina persisted to knock it back down again.

If she hadn't any understanding of Regina, Kathryn might think herself being played for a fool and promptly end things, but she saw the struggle and the want in Regina's eyes and had already vowed to wait things out. She would come around, she often told herself, and when Mayor Mills was finally able to admit to herself that she had found love – and they were both past denying this, at least – Kathryn was sure that it would all pay off.

Regina's sigh was desperate and she placed her palms, behind her, against the cool dampness of the wall. She couldn't even think of the marks her coat would be accumulating, legs far too unsteady to hold her alone.

"You know I want to," she spoke to the floor, a low howl to her voice that had Kathryn pressing a palm to her cheek.

"I know," she nodded slowly, "but this is ridiculous, Regina."

"You're still married," Regina countered, frowning up at Kathryn with something akin to accusation.

Kathryn sighed and licked her lips, dropping her hand. "We've talked about this. The divorce should be finalised soon." Regina swallowed and glanced away, but Kathryn did not avert her gaze. "And after that… will you allow yourself to be seen with me, then?"

Dark eyes shot to her own, and Kathryn watched Regina's irises sink into her pupils, darkening.

"I am not ashamed of you," Regina hissed, and Kathryn almost regretted her words.

Blinking the frustration from her gaze, Regina took in a long breath and cleared her throat. Her eyes fell to the pale hands that were barely tucked into the small pockets of Kathryn's grey jacket. Her thumbnail scored a line down her index finger, itching for the hands' warmth, and eventually she outstretched an arm to slip her fingers inside the other woman's pocket. Cold digits secured around warm and, already, Regina felt her body gaining heat.

She raised her eyes to Kathryn's and sank into the blue. "I should be getting back," she whispered, regretfully. Kathryn nodded, but her fingers only tightened around Regina's.

"I don't want to say goodbye," she whispered back.

Regina swallowed around a constricting throat and leaned in to gently press her lips to Kathryn's. "Soon, we won't have to."


	5. Heat

Swan Queen

* * *

Heat (not a prompt, but it fits with the little oneshots, so it's being included)

The heat spread through her back like a rash, consuming her body as though the fiery pits of hell had risen in her bedroom, consuming all but the queen-sized bed that dominated the room.

"Regina," she muffled into the pillow, "get off me."

As if offended, Regina huffed and shifted to purposefully knee her in the back of her leg. Still, her arm remained around her waist, stomach pressed flush to Emma's back. She was comfortable and she'd be damned if Emma Swan ruined this for her.

"Seriously," Emma whined into the dark, "I'm so _warm._" The exhale of Regina's sigh, hot breath, did nothing for her state and a groan left her lips, muffled by her pillow.

"I've just gotten comfortable," Regina whined back, enjoying the burn that sunk greedily through the scarce material of her nightwear.

Emma attempted to shuffle forward, but Regina had already chased her to the edge of the bed and the choice, now, lay between suffocating with the warmth of Regina's body pressed to hers, or tumbling straight onto the floor. Though she was sure it'd be cooler down there; falling off the bed suddenly seemed like the lesser of two evils.

As though aware of her mutinous thoughts, Regina's grasp tightened around her waist and she held her tightly against her front, bidding Emma no room to escape.

"Regina," came the consequent mumble, "I'm too hot… just move over…"

A sorrowful noise parted the thick sheets of air that hung above them, and then Regina's body was gone. Finally able to breathe, Emma sighed happily and sunk into the pillow once again, the heat slowly receding.

And then she was being pushed up from the bed.

"_Reginaaaa_," Emma whined, confused and groggy, begging for the sleep that the heat of the night continued to dangle just out of her reach.

Without answering her, Regina grabbed the hem of Emma's tank top and ripped it over her head, followed swiftly by the flimsy nightdress covering her own body. When Emma stared at her, curious and surprised, Regina merely pushed her back into the bed and shimmied the duvet down to their hips, allowing a coolness to lick at their exposed bodies.

If Emma thought her nakedness might lead to a chill, she was thankfully reassured when Regina's body returned to her back, an arm slung over her waist and soft breasts pressed against either side of her spine.

"There," Regina grinned against the lingering smell of coconut conditioner, "that's better." Her sigh tickled blonde strands into shivering across the other woman's back, and she smiled as Emma shifted back into her ever so slightly, seeking the heat that she was only happy to share.


	6. Slow Dance

Swan Queen

* * *

Slow Dance

"I don't slow dance." Regina planted her hands firmly against her chest, folded and unforgiving.

Emma raised an eyebrow. "Seriously? There's something I can do _better _than you?" The indignant, near-repulsed expression that pinched Regina's face was worth it.

"Not can't, Ms. Swan, _don't_," She huffed in defence.

Green eyes rolled. "What's the difference? If you won't, you won't."

Regina ignored her and so Emma knocked their shoulders together, easily ignoring the other woman's annoyance. "Hey, Madame Mayor…"

Her smile widened as she watched Regina's lips twist, jaw clenching, straining to avert her gaze.

"_Madame Mayor_," Emma sang, eyebrows raised.

Silence.

"Agh, Regina, stop sulking just because you can't dance…"

"Ms. Swan, my danci-"

"You can talk!" Emma cried in mock-astonishment. Regina frowned at her as though she'd gone mad. Or had, more likely, had one too many glasses of champagne. Probably more accurate, considering that this was the first time, of the entire night, that Regina had seen her without a flute glass in hand.

"I think it's best you go, Sheriff," Regina said, feigning boredom, "before you cause a scene."

"I'm not leaving without that dance," Emma quickly countered, having the gall, Regina startled, to jab a finger in her ribs.

"_Scene_," Regina punctuated with a frown, taking a side-step away (which Emma easily followed), "and, with that attitude," her eyes scanned the room, "you'll be leaving sorely disappointed."

Emma's snorted laugh had her eyes reeling back around, attention caught.

"Mmm, I don't think so," She grinned, also glancing around at the dancing bodies and smiling faces that filled the Town Hall.

She could no longer remember what event it was that they were celebrating, but she had the Mayor of Storybrooke by her side and finally felt comfortable enough to not have a champagne glass in her hands. Things were progressing.

Regina frowned merely frowned at her, not enjoying the lack of insight she had into Emma's intoxicated mind. "Meaning?" she asked, eyes flittering around the room with self-reprimanding as she realised just how much interest had leaked into her tone.

Emma turned to her with a grin, an alcohol haze guiding her closer. She dropped a hand on Regina's hip as she leant in to speak, unaware of the other woman's widened eyes searching the room for a gaze that dared to catch them.

When Emma stood further, still, Regina finally unfolded her arms to press her hands to Emma's shoulders. She applied a light pressure with all the intention of pushing her away from her, but then warm hands were pulling her closer, and Emma's face was nearing her own. Her eyes closed with feelings akin to distress and need warring inside her chest. She barely noticed that she was moving and startled, for more reasons than one, when Emma's hot breath lingered in her ear.

"Regina… we're dancing."

And Regina's surprise, to her displeasure, was enough to keep her from pushing Emma away.


	7. Stetson

Swan Queen

* * *

Stetson

"Stetson?" Emma guffawed, fingers stilling over the crook on the inside of Regina's elbow. "He's wearing a Stetson?"

Regina rolled her eyes from over the top of her book. "You asked me to read you a sample, Sheriff."

Emma shrugged, as though she hadn't brought it on herself. Her hand began to move, again, lightly raking her short nails over tender, coffee-coloured flesh.

"And besides," Regina hummed, feeling a warm arm tighten around her waist, "Stetsons are sexy."

At that, Emma tilted her head to frown up at her. "I could pull off a Stetson…" Regina's snorted laughter had her blushing with annoyance. "Hey – I could!" Her leg came around one of Regina's at the thigh, as though to punctuate her point.

"Of course, dear," Regina smiled, sinking further into the bed.

Emma frowned at her. Feeling the other woman's gaze boring through her book, she asked, "Would you like me to continue reading?" And when Emma did not reply: "Or are you bored, already?" She raised a playful brow.

"Of course not," Emma imitated her tone.

Regina peered over the slightly yellowed pages to smirk at her with narrowed, suspicious eyes. "You're only interested because you want some."

"I'm fully invested in the lives of Earnest and Margaret."

Regina's eyebrows rose. "You mean Arthur and Margery, dear."

Emma ground a sigh. "Sure… same difference."

The book closed with a smile, teetering precariously between fingers until it slipped to the duvet, Regina's focus favouring her other hand which lingered over and caressed the smooth, near-translucent flesh stretched, taught, over Emma's collarbone. Book forgotten, its passages long since frozen on her tongue, Regina surged closer and pressed her lips to Emma's.

"You're right, dear," she murmured against the pale pink softness of Emma's mouth, "you'd look ravishing in a Stetson."


	8. A Page of her Diary

Swan Queen

* * *

A Page of her Diary

"I just wish you'd talk to me." It's said quietly to the freezing glass in the window, where Emma stands and glances down at the apple tree that manages to look even more enchanted in the winter months than it did the spring.

She almost falls into the touch as tentative hands find her hips, holding her in place. She feels Regina's warmth as she nears, feels each point of contact, whether it be the fingertips that dig in a little too tight around her hips, the breasts that melt on either side of her spine, or the forehead that drops against the red leather at the base of her neck.

Regina drinks in the smell, a familiar fragrance of what she thinks home might have smelled like, should she have had one growing up.

"I want to," She whispers against the leather, a seeping breath that she almost wishes for Emma not to hear. "I want to tell you everything."

"Then tell me." She should try to not sound so frustrated, Emma warns herself, but they've been in a relationship – a real, adult relationship – for months now and Regina still won't let her in.

The fingers loosen around her hips, retracting so as to allow arms to slide around her waist. "I will."

"When?"

Emma doesn't expect an answer, even as Regina untangles one arm from around her waist to find her hand. But there's something rough in the palm that presses to hers, and when Emma glances down, a folded sheet of fine paper has been pressed into her hand.

"What's this?" She asks, her fingers instantly going to unfold the little rectangle, but Regina's hand gently stills her progress.

"Everything you want to know," she says quietly, peering now over a shoulder, and Emma can feel hot breath against her neck, "is written on that page."

The gulp is an audible one in the silence of the bedroom. "Will you let me read it?" She whispers, and feels Regina tighten her hold around her waist.

"I can't stop you," Regina tells her quietly, with surprisingly little regret, "but I'd like to tell you myself. If you'll let me… if you'll wait."

The turn is near impossible, but Emma manages it without fully extracting herself from the other woman's hold. Her palm closes around the paper, and Regina's around hers, while the other lifts to cup a cheek.

"I'll wait," and it's a vow, promise and guarantee all in one breath, "I'd wait forever."

The kiss, she supposes, isn't necessary to seal the conviction, but that logic is rarely ever applied, and the way she feels Regina's breath hitch against her lips is all the reassurance she needs to feel content again with their position.


	9. Waffles

Swan Queen

* * *

Waffles 

"Can you make me some waffles…?" It came out as a whine, after almost half an hour of deliberately ignoring the craving for something sweet – something sticky – and Emma tilted her head to look up at Regina with large, green eyes, as though the shelf she made of her bottom lip would persuade the other woman to acquiesce to her plead.

Regina looked down at the woman tangled against her body, a thin bed sheet twining their breasts and legs together while Emma's rotund belly rested atop her own, much flatter stomach. "Again, Ms. Swan?" She asked, the title a clear admonishment even as her fingers came out to brush against the blooming flush of Emma's left cheek.

"C'mon," Emma said, digging her chin a little further into the coffee cream of Regina's flesh just below her collarbone, where the white of their sheet barely covered the bruise-like marks her hungry mouth had left from the night before. "My uterus is taking more bangings than a sailor fresh from sea."

A dark eyebrow rose at the expression, one she rather wished she wouldn't understand even if she had been born from this peculiar world that shone through her partner's colourful vocabulary like sunlight on an oil stain. "I'll make you some porridge," Regina reasoned, instead, "In fact, I'll even throw in some fruit."

"Oh, wow, thanks," Emma grumbled, but saw that she was losing the argument. Sighing, she pressed her stomach further against Regina's, until the bump appeared to blend between the two of them like a shared growth.

"C'mon, baby," she prompted, using the voice she reserved only for talking to the bump. "Help your mama out, huh?" Gliding a hand over the swollen girth of her stomach, she cooed, "You want mommy to make us some waffles, don't you? Nice, soft, squidgy little waffles all covered in syrup… yeah?" Regina watched her with an indulgent smile, and shifted a leg until her thigh brushed against the base of the baby bump, settling again over one of Emma's.

"All you gotta do," Emma continued, "is kick once for _yes_ and twice for _no_… got it, kid?"

They fell into a gaping silence, waiting for a response. Emma's hand stilled atop the bump, pressed between their stationary, but for breathing, bodies. The bedroom lay in the quiet stasis of morning and, though it went ignored or was barely registered, the sun lay with them, giving light to their microcosmic world on the island of their Queen-sized mattress.

The moment passed slowly, both mothers waiting for a response that the growing bump was not yet prepared to give, and eventually Emma sighed and settled more comfortably against Regina, who stretched an arm down her warm back and asked, "Need I remind you, _again_, of the doctor's orders?"

"No," Emma huffed, sinking back to Regina's body until her cheek slapped against the other woman's chest. "No alcohol, no junk food, no _fun_… Pretty sure I remember this part of the pregnancy perfectly, thanks."

"It's for the–"

"–_good of the baby_," Emma finished, as though the words had become an overused tagline in a movie. "Yeah, but come on, just one friggin waffle! What harm's it gonna do?" And, again, her eyes rose to Regina's in a stubborn kind of pleading. "I'll walk it off…"

Regina's sudden snort of laughter had Emma jerking against her chest, and she glared at her from beneath the curls that fell past her face. Seeing the annoyance over the other woman's features, however, Regina's grin only grew and her hands crept up to Emma's cheeks to brush her unruly locks behind small ears. All she uncovered was more of the previously partially obstructed frown.

"Oh, dear," she drawled, teeth scraping over her bottom lip as the tips of her fingers curled into Emma's hair. "I thought we'd already established that I can't be bribed? – And just when was the last time you went for one of your _daily walks_, hm?"

"Uh, woah," Emma frowned, turning further into Regina to see her face, "I'm eight months pregnant and waiting to drop, you could show me a little sympathy here."

"_Right_, sympathy in the form of high cholesterol," Regina nodded.

"It's one waffle," Emma countered, and then, grasping at straws, "I'll repay you in sexual favours."

That dark eyebrow danced again. "We haven't got time," Regina finally said, her tone both a warning and a dare. With a grin, Emma's hand slid beneath the tangled sheet that barely covered their pressed bodies, gliding down a thigh and disappearing against the soft flesh of its inner-side.

"Emma," Regina near-gasped, "_don't_."

She was not prepared to spend the morning with an unrelenting sexual frustration until her lunch break, but even as she imagined the aching throb of what her very-near-future would consist of, her thighs shifted to give the other woman better access.

"Ah, see," Emma grinned, taking full advantage of the shift and sliding her hand further up, until her fingertips grazed against the sensitive flesh at the apex of a thigh, "I can be quite persuasive…"

Regina shot her a doubtful look, all teasing, and Emma had to grin as she recounted, "It took me less than five seconds to get you to eat me out this morning."

The smirk her words brought to Regina's lips only encouraged her own, and she drawled, "Oh, _yes_," as though it had been such a burden, "I wonder why that was…" Her breath hitched minutely as those talented little fingers pressed further into her flesh, kneading and teasing and creating all kinds of sensations Regina didn't want to have to carry with her while she was locked up, alone, in her office.

Barely missing a beat, Emma's lips twitched with a brighter smile, and her cheeks coloured with more than the flush of their early morning _activities_, as she said, "Because you love me." It was a cocky response, near-smug, as though Emma couldn't quite believe the words herself, or had to say them aloud as a reminder.

Before Regina could answer – whether to playfully correct the blonde or confirm her words – the growing bump between them both gave a kick. The movement, so surprising in its force, drew their eyes to the bulge of Emma's stomach. With softened expressions, they caught each other's gaze and beamed at the baby's answer.

"Yes," Regina nodded, "_perhaps_…"

With a smirk, Emma retracted her fingers to curve around the supple flesh of Regina's thigh, guiding the limb further against her own leg as through to wrap her baby bump with the other woman's body.

"We should get up," she sighed, turning her head to press a kiss against Regina's chest before she rested her cheek against the spot.

Nodding with a reluctant murmur, Regina smoothed her hand down Emma's back as her other traced the well-worn path down to the bump that rested over her stomach. "We should," She agreed, thinking of Henry and the school run and work. Her eyes closed against the waiting world, and her hold around the warm body in her arms strengthened.

"If we get up now," she reasoned, more to herself than the listening blonde, "we can have breakfast together before we have to leave."

Emma's agreement stirred in the soft sigh that sent a shiver of goosebumps along Regina's exposed chest, and she tilted her head up so as to capture the look of tranquillity over Regina's face. Her lips stretched with a smile and, giving a squeeze of the other woman's thigh, she asked with only a modicum of mischief, "Does this mean I can have some waffles, then…?"


	10. Breakfast in Bed

Emma/Henry interaction, with a smidgen of Swan Queen on top.

* * *

Breakfast in Bed

With a hand still tangled in her unruly, blonde locks, Emma dragged her feet over the threshold of the bathroom with a yawn. It was barely past seven on a Saturday morning, and she had full intention of getting right back in bed and sleeping for as long as she possibly could until Regina drove her into making herself look presentable.

Her trip back to the bedroom, however, was interrupted by a small, ten-year-old body suddenly appearing in front of her. She stumbled, cut off a curse, and came to a halt before him. She considered them both lucky that she hadn't dropped them both to the ground.

"Woah, kid, what?" she croaked, squinting. She rocked back on her heels, steadying herself, and pushed her hair out of her face properly so as to see Henry's wide, nervous blue eyes. "What's wrong?" she asked, the sleep falling from her as parental concern swiftly took precedence over her weary mind.

Henry released his bottom lip, red raw from his teeth, and peered up at her with an almost desperate expression. "I…need your help," he said, tilting his head to the side in that way he did when wanting to get his own way. Or, Emma thought, when in trouble and hoping for an early end to his grounding.

Instantly wary, she straightened up and asked, while kneading a hand into the small of her back, "…what kind of help?"

Dark blues flittered around the landing, and then rose back up to waiting green. Mustering all the courage any ten year old boy would need to fulfil this latest quest, Henry sucked in a breath and answered, in a croaky, pleading tone, "Breakfast."

Emma blinked. _Breakfast_?

"You could'a said," she smiled, releasing a breath and shaking her fingers through his hair, until it looked almost as mussed as her own. "Give me five minutes and I'll get your mom up, we'll make you some–"

"No." Henry shook his head quickly, frowning a little. "Not breakfast for me. Breakfast for _you_. I was… gonna make it, but I can't do the bacon and I burnt the eggs."

He pouted in a way that Emma thought adorable and terrifying, so uncanny the resemblance was to her own features. Whether nurture or nature was to blame, the kid was damn stubborn. Though she couldn't much complain – she couldn't remember the last time she'd had breakfast in bed.

"Why're you making me breakfast?" she asked, with enough amusement for Henry to blatantly frown at her.

"Not just you," he answered, his tone the equivalent to an unspoken '_duh_'. "_Both_ of you." When Emma only stared at him, uncomprehending and about to suggest he spend more time in the kitchen with Regina if he was so interested in cooking, he rolled his eyes and clarified, "It's Mother's Day. All moms are supposed to have breakfast in bed on Mother's Day, and I'm old enough to make it, now."

The look on his face just dared Emma to say otherwise.

Touched by the gesture, Emma fell silent with a soft '_oh_'. Breakfast in bed _and_ the celebration of her parenthood? Well, she could get used to this…

She felt her throat tighten in a way that could quite easily lead her to being a blubbering mess within the space of nought-to-ten seconds (an ability she had first discovered during Henry's school nativity last year), and so pressed on before the feeling could fully grab her.

"Right," she nodded, "Mother's Day…" Because, of course, she hadn't remembered – or, _known_, "What're we making for breakfast?"

Henry smiled and slid his hand into hers, the gesture comfortingly familiar, by now, as he pulled her towards the stairs. "I used all the bacon, so probably some of that healthy stuff that mom likes… but with fruit, you know? To make it look better."

Emma smiled to herself as she was pulled towards the kitchen, and resisted the urge to muss her fingers through the kid's hair again. As uncertain as she'd first been about the whole _domesticity thing_ with Regina, she really couldn't argue against the feelings that seemed to swell from within her chest.

And, with her son's hand loosely curled around her own, and his incessant babbling about the difference between porridge and pancakes filtering up the stairs, she couldn't think of a single complaint. This was life, now. And, this time, she was going to stick around long enough to live it.


	11. Crying

Swan Queen

* * *

Crying

Emma's head jolted up at the sound of a closing door, a smile instantly warming her face. "Hey," she offered in greeting as she watched Regina stride into the room, the queenly gown sweeping the floor around her feet. "I'm making dinner."

A perfectly chiselled eyebrow arched at the words, for more reasons than one, and Regina paused by the table set for two, regarding the woman bent by the fire. "You're cooking?" she asked, and Emma stood with a roll of her eyes.

"Don't sound so surprised…" Stepping forward until their bodies were close enough for insistent arms to tangle around one another, Emma pressed their lips together. The preferred greeting had Regina pulling back with a teasing smile.

"We have an army of culinary experts downstairs, dear. If you were hungry, you could have asked-"

"-one of them to make me something," Emma interrupted with a nod. "Yeah, I know. But I wanted to do this for myself… and…for you." She gave a shrug, willing the blush to wilt before it reached her cheeks, but the barely masked twinkle in Regina's dark eyes only fed her body's feverish response.

"Mm," Regina smiled, arms tightening around the princess. "Who knew you'd turn into such a housewife upon earning a royal title?" Emma tapped her backside in response, her hands then splaying over the fine material of the dress; of subtle design yet cripplingly expensive. Regina's eyes glinted with mischief. "And you won't poison me this time…?"

"Don't tempt me."

Another kiss, against which a soft chuckle rumbled, and then Regina pulled back with an expectant grin. "Let's see what you've created, then…" She lost contact with the blonde and stepped around her, Emma watching her with interest as she neared the fire where their dinner was cooking.

"It's just a stew," she called after her, and then frowned a little when she saw Regina pause. From where she was bent over, peering down into the pot which held the broth, Regina slowly straightened. She fell quiet and Emma stared after her in helpless distress, wondering what had gone wrong.

Surging forward, she asked, "Has it ruined?" But when Regina turned around, Emma's hand on her arm, her eyes were as wide as saucers and her lips pulled into a taut, barely repressed smile.

Emma's frown only deepened. "Regina, what is it…?"

She stared down at the stew, then back to the other woman, and her eyebrows crinkled and raised in surprise as Regina let out a choked rasp, then cleared her throat as though to mask the blunder.

"Em-" She paused, another strange choking noise leaving her lips, which tightened in peculiar shapes over her teeth. "Emma…" Dark eyes closed, and, upon reopening, expelled an amusement so bright Emma almost had to take a step back. "Do you know the name of that…_pot_ you're using?"

Frowning, green eyes went to the stew. "A pot… it's just a pot." Looking up to Regina, she asked, exasperated, "You're not gonna give me the whole 'don't use equipment you don't know the proper name of' speech again, are you?"

Regina tried to shake her head, but appeared to be near-suffocating on the choking gasps that she was attempting to repress. "N-no…" Another cough to clear her throat, then, "Emma… What you're using to cook our dinner in… is a _chamber pot_."

Emma blinked. "Yeah… a chamber pot, right…" She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, feeling as though she was missing a punch line.

Brown eyes widened, if ever possible, and whatever Regina was attempting to hold inside bubbled to the surface in a laugh so unexpected that Emma actually took a step back.

Indignation formed a scowl over features, but the disappointment of having clearly messed up was no match for the wonder that was Regina Mills choking on the laughter that she was trying so desperately not to emit. The short bursts gave way to unrelenting howls, the dirty chuckle rising to a high-pitched wail as Regina clutched at her stomach.

Finally, she fell against Emma, gasping for air but having long since given up the hope of controlling her giggling fit. Emma pressed her hands to her caramel coloured cheeks and saw, with unabashed awe, a kind of childlike innocence beaming through diluted pupils. The reflection upon them, her own face staring back from inside, free with amusement, only confirmed her suspicions of having fallen into those eyes once, long ago, and having never since recovered from her stupor.

And then her reflection wavered, danced, and Emma's quiet, beaming grin grew to overwhelm any thoughts she might have voiced. Her thumbs traced the curves of cheekbones, damp with joy, and a breathy giggle tumbled from her parted lips.

Regina was laughing so hard, she was _crying_.


End file.
